


Star Shaped Carrots

by ThePrincePeach



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games), BioShock Infinite
Genre: BioShock Spoilers, Family, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Found Family, Jack is just everyone's dad, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Selectively Mute Jack (Bioshock), Tattoos, This is just an au I like, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, after game AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28067871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePrincePeach/pseuds/ThePrincePeach
Summary: Dinner is always interesting at the Ryan household.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Star Shaped Carrots

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, just a silly AU of mine where Jack, the little sisters he rescued, Elizabeth, and Booker all live together. If you guys like this stuff, just let me know.
> 
> Also, sorry for just, stopping writing for a while. I hit a severely depressive state in these last while due to many things and had no creativity or motivation. I read through old comments and I want to keep making things that make people happy or reactive <3 You're the reason I come to write. Thank you, readers, you mean so much to me.
> 
> Please enjoy.

“So… Do you know how to speak? Or just choose not to?” 

The other man turned to look at Booker with a bit of surprise in his eyes, Elizabeth’s gaze looked more annoyed. Jack, slowly, turned his attention back to the cookbook set up before him on the counter, read over the next few lines, then resumed chopping the carrots over the cutting board. Elizabeth kept her gaze on the oldest male, gripping the handles of the strainer tightly. She lightly slammed the strainer in the sink and Booker raised a brow. 

“Booker, do you ever think before you speak?” She asked in a hushed, still rather annoyed, tone. “He /does/ speak. He uses sign language.”

“It’s a valid question. I think if someone is going to raise a group of kids, they should at least know what it sounds like for their father to tell them he loves them.” 

“You’re the last person to give parenting advice.” 

Jack, again, paused and glanced over to the older man who gave her a stunned look. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of a reply, resembling a dying fish, before quickly closing his mouth and giving a half-hearted shrug and a nod of the head. 

“Alright, fair point, fair point,” he replied to her. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back once more into the chair. “I meant no offence. Jack, I didn’t offend you, did I? I really didn’t mean to.” Jack shook his head lightly and returned to chopping carrots after a moment of hesitation. He set his jaw and raised his head back up, turning back to the other man and – with a change of heart – nodded instead. Booker’s brows raised. “I offended you?” Jack nodded again with a bit more vigour. “I’d ask if you could explain it but…” He chuckled. Jack raised the knife in hand and swiftly stabbed it into the cutting board to send the older man a heated scowl. A silent warning. Booker’s pale eyes trailed from his own reflection in the knife to the strong hand holding the handle, up the arm, the shoulder, to the glaring Jack. His brows raised again and he turned his gaze away, muttering under his breath a quick, “Sorry, sorry.” 

It was evident the men didn’t get along, but formed a feigned peace for the young ones to finally have a sense of stability in their new home. Jack took in a deep breath through his nose, held it, counted to five in his head, and turned back to the current task; chopping vegetables for dinner. Elizabeth kept her eyes on them for a moment or two longer before looking back to the strainer. She quietly drained the pasta and dumped it into a bowl. She stole a glance at the little chart taped up on the wall beside the cabinets and nodded before opening it to begin pulling out plates. Olivia had the pink plate, Ava had green, Sophia had purple but occasionally switched with Steven to use the darker green one, and Amelia only used the blue one. It was very important Amelia ate off of blue dishware, and only blue. According to her, food didn’t taste good when eaten off another coloured dishware. Though Ava preferred using a green plate, she would accept a bowl of a different colour if so be the case. Elizabeth thought the question when presented to her of ‘which colour of plate do you want’ was quite funny and giggled until she noticed Jack’s serious expression. Sheepishly, she answered she liked the colour navy blue. And so, her plate was navy blue with white pinstripes. It all went on the chart to keep track. 

Ah, the gift of children. 

Jack silently went to work on pressing the carrot slices with a vegetable stamper, creating little stars with them. He dropped the stars into one bowl and the leftovers into another to use for the alfredo. Carrot pieces, broccoli, pieces of chicken, all went into the alfredo currently warming in a small pot. Elizabeth moved to dump the carrots in the pot but was stopped by the other man, who offered her a smile and gestured to the ceiling. He signed slowly for her. The girl watched carefully, mimicking his motions as she mouthed out what she thought. 

“Get kids, please, thank you… Oh! Yeah! I can get them. Are you sure you won’t need my help?” She asked. He kept his smile and waved her off. She chuckled and, nervously, glanced between him and Booker, silently assured by Jack as he led her away from the sink. “I really don’t mind staying to help, honestly, Jack.” She laughed as he was reduced to tickling her sides to shoo her away. “Alright! Alright! I’m going!” She grinned as she hurried out of the kitchen, Jack silently chuckling as she went for the stairs and disappeared up them. Booker watcher her quietly. 

He turned back to Jack, “Look, I-“ 

Jack slammed his palm on the table next to the older man and he jumped, his free hand sitting on his hip, obviously still angered despite the smile he gave to Elizabeth. Booker quickly leaned back in his seat to create as much distance as he could between them. Booker stared up at him before slowly narrowing his eyes. Jack was new to showing emotions, though lately, all Booker had seen towards him was annoyance or anger. And now, unsurprisingly, Jack looked angry. The drawn down brows, the half-lidded eyes, the deep scowl; oh yeah, Jack was pissed. Booker swallowed a lump in his throat. 

“… Jack, listen, I—” 

Again cut off, this time by Jack raising his finger to silence him. Booker would have bitten it off if the circumstances were different. His brow twitched but he stayed quiet this time. Jack turned his arm to show his inner wrist, tapping at it lightly. Booker looked down to it. 

Sometime recently, Jack had the chains covered up. It took hours to get it all finished in one sitting, but Jack had gone through longer and worse, and he was excited for this one. On his left arm, covering the chains on his wrist, now a beautiful series of sunflowers and their curly stems around a list of delicately written names; the kids’ names. Granted, he swiftly returned to that nice tattoo shop shortly after to correct ‘Stephanie’ into ‘Steven’ and add on ‘Elizabeth’ to the count. On the other arm, he kept the chains, even got them touched up a bit to make the lines clean again. Often, late at night when the kids’ were asleep, Jack liked to stare at the sunflowers on his wrist and smile, fingertips gingerly tracing the petals that led to the names. Sunflowers grew tall and powerful and beautiful, he wanted that for his kids. Sunflowers were signs of adoration, loyalty, and strength. First coming to a steady home with the kids, it was sunflowers that grew around the gardens. It only seemed natural to have sunflowers represent the next and forever following steps in their makeshift little home. 

Jack did not need to tell the kids verbally his love for them every day. Instead, he made charts of their preferred plate colours. In every hug, in every cuddle, in every snuggle. In every bandage placed on skinned knees, in every weepy night of bad dreams or belly aches, in every game, in every meal he cooked and served to them, in every dinner or breakfast or lunch. In every night when he’d come and tuck them in, make sure they had their sleeping comfort, kiss their forehead, turn on nightlights when needed. Every time he scooped up a tearful child and held them close and wiped away their tears. Every time he so happened to wake up on the couch during a movie night to realize most of the children had fallen asleep on him. Every laundry day when warm blankets would be pulled from the dryer and draped over whoever so happened to be around. In every impromptu session of a girl wanting her nails painted, hair done up, dress up, playtime. In every piece of art or craft, one of the kids seemed extra proud of that would always end up on the fridge. In every little ramble, a child had when their dearest and most special of interests popped up, that Jack would happily listen to. In every check, every loose bill, every fistful of change dropped into savings for schools and nice colleges and groceries. In every little giggle, every little smile, every laugh, every tear, every action he has done for these children – has been done from love and love alone.

He tolerated Booker out of love for Elizabeth, he cleaned the spare room as quickly as he could just to give her a room – out of love and care. The moment, the mere second, Elizabeth tells him that she wants Booker to leave; Jack will be there to happily kick him out without a second thought. He looked forward to the day, really! 

Their eyes locked in heated glares, Jack’s free fist trembling lightly as he fought back every urge to sock that stupid face of Booker’s right in the mouth. Booker gripped at his pants legs to fight back the desire to strike up and slam Jack hard enough in the gut to make him hurl. They both looked over as Elizabeth cleared her throat at the entryway, the children behind her. Her eyes darted between the men quickly, nervously, the children looked either scared or confused as they hid behind Elizabeth’s dress. Jack took a step back from the older man as he stood up, brushing past Jack without a care and moving to the backroom. The door closed behind him. 

Jack flashed them a smile and crouched down to open his arms, Ava and Sophie excitedly giggling as they hurried into his arms. He easily stood up with them in his arms and grinned as they eagerly began explaining their previous game upstairs. Elizabeth sighed silently and, though hesitant, smiled at them. She planted her hands on her hips and declared, 

“Come on, boys and girls, line up for dinner. We made spaghetti and alfredo.”

… 

Booker came out later that night, now in more comfortable sleeping clothes, stomach growling from a missed dinner. He paused when he noticed a plate on the counter; a lovely dish of spaghetti with alfredo slathered on top, steamed broccoli and boiled star-shaped carrots on the side, wrapped in cling wrap with a sticky note saying ‘Booker’ on top. Jack’s handwriting. 

He stared at the plate in silence. 

Carrots taste better in star shapes anyway.


End file.
